


So Watch and Wait Patiently

by Dillbugg



Series: Pieces in a Puzzle Box (Dream SMP Recovery AU) [5]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Finally, Geez, Gen, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Eret, He is dumb of ass pure of heart your honor, I described a gov and hey its there, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Injury Recovery, Local author uses eret as a comfort streamer and it shows, Memory Loss, Multiple Pronouns for Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Therapy, Trans Floris | Fundy, Trans Male Character, eret deserves a redemption just going to say it now, get this man a happy ending, local author puts way to much faith in their poor idea of a gov, quackity is smart, tubbo goes to a psychiatrist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:55:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27830065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dillbugg/pseuds/Dillbugg
Summary: There’s a lightning shaped scar to the right of Tommy’s spine. Tubbo remembers now, not all of it. But enough.Tommy gets home from his trip, Fundy is no where to be found. Quackity plays a game of detective. Then, after five months of being in the hospital, Tubbo is discharged. What goes up must come down. Tubbo experiences with drawls.Or;“Wil,” Phil greets as he opens the door, there’s a clink of ceramic against wood and the mouth watering scent of fresh bread along with a waft of seasoned meats.“Hey dadza,”“Hey son,” He says, and the bed dips as he sits on the edge. Wil runs his fingers along the crinkles in his blanket, the knitted blue one, made by the dent.“Talked to Fundy some. Smart kid you got yourself there.” He says.“Yeah, he’s great.”“Wil,”“Yeah?”“I think you should get some help,” He gently tousles Wil’s hair, and when his son doesn’t lean away from his touch, he continues to play with it gently.Wil’s eyes stay firmly shut in his silence.“Yeah.” He finally agrees, “I think I should too. Furry bastard convinced me.”
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Jschlatt, Alexis | Quackity & TommyInnit, Eret & Niki | Nihachu, Eret & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Floris | Fundy & Niki | Nihachu, Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson
Series: Pieces in a Puzzle Box (Dream SMP Recovery AU) [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018948
Comments: 8
Kudos: 161





	1. So Watch the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy. Oh boyyyyyy... this one will either slap or flop,, wish me luck.

“I’m just so scared of forgetting everything,” He admits to the woman sitting across from him; his psychiatrist, Dr. Viridian.

“Okay.” She says, and pauses to think for a moment, “What if, instead of focusing on what you’re forgetting, you could try connecting what you know in order to recall everything you remember.”

“Huh,” He says, and feels a little lighter at the suggestion, “That could work.”

“Wonderful,” She tucks a seafoam hued curl back into her braid, “Why don’t we practice that right now. You don’t need to do much, just say things you remember but don’t know why.”

“Ok,” Tubbo nods to himself, trying to coax confidence out of himself.

“Are you ready?” Dr. Viridian asks.

Tubbo closes his eyes, “Yes,” he says, the confidence comes easier this time.

“Alright, let’s do this,” She says, ever steady and supportive.

He chooses trust, and then allows himself to fall into the abyss of his broken mind.

***

There’s a lightning shaped scar to the right of Tommy’s spine.

The world stutters to a stop. He tries harder.

There's a lightning shaped scar on Tommy's back, just left of his right shoulder blade, barely clear of his spine.

Better, but not quite. He tries again.

Even though he's never seen it, he can visualize in his mind exactly where the scar would be from that ambush, can see its jagged forks like a lick of lightning across a stormy sky. He was the one who helped Fundy dig the barbs attached to the arrow out of his flesh, after all.

Good. But why does that matter?

Tommy is terrified of being betrayed and he has every reason, up to and including the token permanently branded into his skin. The right side of Tubbo’s face is stretched and scarred, a burn healed but never forgotten. There’s a thin scar, milky white and barely there across his fingers where he picked up broken shards of glass on a battlefield full of friends and enemies. And he fought for his enemies, didn’t he. He fought for them.

All at Schlatt’s command, all after he was bent and twisted to fit Schlatt’s will. He doesn’t remember- can’t remember - his best friends face, but it haunts him and he can hear the dredges of an echo in the back of his mind.

What had he shouted? He had shouted at Tubbo, screamed at Tubbo about _something_. Something important. He really should remember this, this one isn’t a blocked off memory, he should be able to access it, why can’t he access-

Slow down. Stop. He takes a breath. Then two. Then three. He goes on.

Tubbo was trapped in a box filled with liquid concrete, holding him down, making him sluggish and tired, and his ally was called on stage. Who was this ally again?

The man in the pig mask, with rose pink hair tied back into neatly plaited braids. Ah, Technoblade. The anarchist. Technoblade was a king once, and Tubbo was an emperor once and Schlatt was a sane man once, but now the three stand from their places on the podium’s stage as an anarchist, a failed spy and a maddened emperor.

The anarchist had lifted his crossbow, the hefty thing, loaded with a neatly packed firework, handmade and deadly. He had lifted his crossbow and pulled the trigger, and painted Tubbo’s face with a scar for the rest of his life.

He stops again, breathes, feels it shudder through him.

Technoblade was called into Dream’s land at the request of Wilbur, his older brother. They’re sons of Philza, the man who took them in when life had nowhere else to put them, and checked them into hospitals and checked them out of hospitals and rebelled against the mad king and then paid for it with his son.

Philza had a third son. The youngest, the firecracker. And he is nameless and faceless in Tubbo’s mind, but he knows, he knows, he knows, that he’s so close to making that connection.

He feels weightless, eyes closed, the world blackened around him.

There’s a lightning shaped scar to the right of Tommy’s spine.

Then, suddenly; connection.

Synapses fire in blessed harmony, his brain resets, he breaths again. Tommy.

Tommy!

Tommy, Tubbo’s best friend.

Tubbo, Tommy’s best friend.

They are one in the same, derived from the same living world just as every other being is. They are the same just as two stars are the same, just as two separate rivers meet at the sea. Two disks; a matched set.

He remembers now, not all of it. But enough.

Tubbo opens his eyes.

***

Wilbur closes his eyes. The room is silent all around him, the wind makes Phil’s cottage creek and groan, but the silence swallows it.

The world still rings, just as it did when he awoke from beyond the grave, and he understands that some things are permanent, but cannot bring himself to not be annoyed at life’s small displeasures.

“Wil,” Phil greets as he opens the door, there’s a clink of ceramic against wood and the mouth watering scent of fresh bread along with a waft of seasoned meats.

“Hey dadza,”

“Hey son,” He says, and the bed dips as he sits on the edge. Wil runs his fingers along the crinkles in his blanket, the knitted blue one, made by the dent.

“Talked to Fundy some. Smart kid you got yourself there.” He says.

“Yeah, he’s great.”

“Wil,”

“Yeah?”

“I think you should get some help,” He gently tousles Wil’s hair, and when his son doesn’t lean away from his touch, he continues to play with it gently.

Wil’s eyes stay firmly shut in his silence.

“Yeah.” He finally agrees, “I think I should too. Furry bastard convinced me.”

“What- Who?”

“Fundy,” Wil says, “Knew I would remember the drowned world if he came to visit me and told me off.”

“Oh,” Phil sighs, “Like I said, smart kid.”

***

Tommy and Eret arrive home after a record breaking four day trip. But, to be fair, they hadn’t even stayed the night, opting instead to push out as far as they could into the night before their horses gave in.

“President Tommy,” Quackity greets him the morning after he arrived back home.

“Hey Big Q,” Tommy greets.

“I have a summarized report of the ongoings of the last four days,” Quackity says, and hands him a binder of papers, “The first part is related to the King’s Court, the second is the L’Manberg cabinet and the third is the citizen section. The fourth is miscellaneous.”

“Okay,” Tommy says, and carefully places it on his stack of To-Do items, ever precariously perched on his desk.

“How’d the trip go?” He asks, and pulls a pen from a cup and flips to a new page on his notepad.

“Not very well. Philza remains as unwilling to listen to authority as when I last saw him.”

“So, we will be proceeding through purely official diplomatic outreach?”

“It appears so,”

“And Fundy?”

“What about him?”

“Well, he didn’t come back with you and King Eret, so I imagine you stationed him there to keep an eye out.”

Tommy blinks. He stares at the clock on his wall just to make sure the world is still real. 10:03 am. What the fuck.

“Fundy did not come with us.” Tommy says hollowly.

Quackity puts down his pen. There’s a moment of uneasy silence, “Where is he then?”

“Fuck,” Tommy says softly.

So now, not only have both his brothers broken out of prison and escaped to a different realm, but now his brother’s son has followed in their footsteps.

How in the world is his family so dysfunctional.

“I’m going for a walk.” Tommy says, already exhausted, the clock ticks to 10:04 am.

He leaves before Quackity can argue, escapes the new whitehouse, mournfully casts a look at the Monument to Crying About It on the next hill over, and walks down the ragged wooden path.

He ends up somewhere that’s become more familiar over the last few days. The bee sanctuary meadows.

“Oh, Tubbo,” Tommy says, pleasantly surprised. He hadn’t expected Tubbo to be out and about, as just four days ago he was confined to his room indefinitely. But it’s nice to see his friend outside in the beehive meadows that Tommy himself set up.

“Tommy!” Tubbo shouts and Tommy falters.

Last he knew, Tubbo didn’t remember him enough to show an interest in spending time with his presence.

“Hey buddy,” He greets cautiously.

Tubbo grins madly, “Niki brought me out here after my psychiatrist appointment went really well yesterday.”

“Oh, that’s good news, big man,” Tommy smiles back, tucks his hands into his pockets nervously. Spots and patches of sunlight break through the tree leaves, dappling a golden glow onto the boys’ skin and hair alike.

“I did this exercise where I put all the information floating around in my head together and guess what!”

“What?” He tries to bring some intrigue into his voice.

“I remembered you Tommy!” Tubbo shouts with an unrestrained glee, “You’re Tommy! You’re my best friend…”

Tommy’s quiet for a moment, Tubbo looks up at him with large doe eyes, “Yeah, I am. I really am.”

He gives Tubbo a shaky smile, “It’s good to see you again, big man.”

***

A measly sentence haunts her, as she watches Fundy burn the flag down. She carefully holds Niki, inconsolably sad and terrifyingly angry at the same time, and she watches as Wilbur’s son burns the flag.

Eret closes her eyes, hears it echoing in her head, _Down with the revolution boys_ , she shudders, this is so hauntingly familiar. She watches as the culprit scales the pole down to the ground, watches as the flag rips in the lashing wind and a huge swath floats away in the wind, still openly aflame. _It was never meant to be_ , she bites her tongue, holds Niki tighter and she clings to Eret in equal measure.

“Fundy, you bastard,” She screams at him, from the high ground, overlooking the newly renamed Manberg. Niki weeps in her arms, how could you? She sobs into the night.

“Niki, we need to go.” She says and Niki only cries harder.

She pulls Niki up to her feet carefully and they begin their retreat, Niki still wears her uniform, pastel blue against Eret’s white silk. She squeezes Niki’s hand, and leads her all the way down the path, they stop at a stable and they both climb onto the same horse, a hauntingly white beast, and they ride all the way to Eret’s castle.

A noblewoman sweeps out into the courtyard, a member of Eret’s court, here to receive news and help her plan out her next steps.

“Lady Agape,” She greets the noblewoman, “Manberg’s flag has been burnt down by one of their own. We will be opening a discussion on whether or not we will take refugees immediately.”

“Yes, your majesty,” She says and leaves Eret to the mercy of the silent night and the quiet work of the stable hands.

“Niki,” She says, and sees her sitting solemnly on a brick of hay, tears streaming silently down her face, clinging to her chin and then falling into her lap where her hands are folded.

“Eret,” She says, a metallic edge to her voice, “He burned down my flag.”

“I know,” She says, and places a comforting hand on Niki’s shoulder, “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” She gently taps Eret’s hand and she withdraws, “I just didn’t think he would do it.”

“Me neither.” Eret says, “I hope he has an explanation. I really do,”

Niki mumbles something and Eret doesn’t catch it.

Then, louder, “I will not stand. And I will not fall.”

A mantra, then. Eret closes her eyes, lets it wash over her. There’s power in these words. There’s control in these words.

There’s power in Eret’s haunting phrase, but there is no control. Those words place the blame on the world. Niki’s mantra keeps her focused.

 _It was never meant to be_ Eret frowns at the intrusion. Replaces it. This time, when the wind dies down and the night is silent, she only hears, _I will not stand. And I will not fall._

The final control room has been destroyed for a long time. It’s about time it vanishes from her mind.

***

“Ah, how sweet of you to visit me, Flatty Patty,” Schlatt crows.

Quackity frowns, the man is handcuffed to the desk and two guards stand motionless inside of the room with him, but he still feels an inkling of fear.

“Schlatt, I have questions for you to answer.” He cuts to the chase, does his best to keep his voice from shaking.

Schlatt only rolls his eyes and chuckles, “Sure you do,”

“Okay, here it goes,” He clicks record on his communicator, a fun new feature Fundy had thought of and then immediately handed off to someone else.

“Did you have any involvement in the alteration of Tubbo’s memories?”

“I don’t know, did I? What do you think, Big Q, you were there, weren’t you?” Schlatt grins mockingly.

“Moving on,” Quackity reaches up, readjusts his beanie, “Where did you find the Sleeping Potion given to and used by Tubbo?”

“Found?” Schlatt’s eyes gleam and his lips twist into a grin, “I didn’t find that, I made it, baby!”

Quackity blinks, face blank. Then, an idea creeps into his mind. Schlatt is overly prideful, he likes taking credit for things, doesn’t appreciate when his hard work is reduced to uncontrollable forces like fate and chance.

“Our records say you found it,” Quackity challenges. Schlatt’s composure shudders, his lips flick down.

“Your records are wrong,”

Quackity regards him coolly. _God I’m so smart_ , he thinks, _this is why I have this job_. He leans down, rests a palm against the cool metal tabletop, “Prove it,” He challenges right back.

***

There’s a journal, heavy with water stains and notes crammed between pages. It smells like sea salt, just like every other thing that touched the drowned world. A page firmly planted in the forgettable middle of the book is marked with an inconspicuous green tab, hidden among many, many others, purples, blues, pinks, yellows.

The page’s contents are as follows;

_2 fermented spider eyes  
1 ghast tear  
Mix until murky purple  
Beware! Unstable, side effects may include:  
Unwakeable sleep  
Memory loss  
Migraine  
Increased Stress  
Increased Appetite  
Fogginess when thinking  
Hallucinations_

A drunk man picks it up, rolls his eyes. A fresh burn, less than an inch long marks his wrist. Potion making is tricky work, and vague instructions make it all the more trickier. He’s out of beer, his two pathetic glass bottles lie scattered around the room. He just needs something else. Something more to tip him over the edge.

His eyes land on the strength potion, newly bottled and not yet labeled. Well, when life gives you lemons.

He grabs it by the glass neck and pops the cork out. He downs it in one gulp. He feels invincible.

Schlatt thumps his knuckles down onto his open journal, then, he tries again.

***

Tubbo is released from the hospital’s care five months after he first arrived, roughly six months after the fateful final fight to take back L’Manberg. Tubbo is allowed to live in his own house again, he’s allowed out on his own time and without accompaniment.

His one condition, determined by the state after the court accepted his plea for insanity, is that he must continue to see his psychiatrist at least once a week.

It’s been four days since he’s been turned loose, and he already feels like he’s losing his mind.

He doesn’t work, can’t focus enough to attempt any projects, barely finds the strength to get out of bed in the morning.

It’s the creaking at night, in his large, empty house. It keeps triggering him, and sometimes he spends hours at a time, sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor, despondent.

And the worst thing? No one has noticed yet.

Tommy visits him, on the morning of the fifth day, when the sun is still awash with pinks and purples, just barely peeking over the horizon.

“Big T,” Tommy grins, and Tubbo returns a small smile, “I’m heading to the bee sanctuary, want to tag along?”

He does, he really does. But, his eyes burn and droop and his limbs are heavy. He’s lucky to have made it to the door after his friend’s insistent knocking broke his exhausted trance.

“I’m not up for that,” Tubbo admits, a painfully honest thing Dr. Viridian would be proud of.

“Ah, okay,” Tommy says, then looks him over, skeptically, “Have you even eaten yet?”

“No, not yet,” Tubbo does not mention he would sooner throw himself into a volcano than face the mess he made in his kitchen last night.

“Huh,” Then, he’s pushing past Tubbo and into his house, “Well, I’ll sort out breakfast for you, then we can chat a bit before I have to go,”

Tubbo pales, “That’s not really-“ and what can he say? Tommy will see through his bulshit, if he says he doesn’t need help, because _he does_ , no matter how much it humiliates him every time he’s reminded of it.

So, he bites his lip so hard it bleeds then swallows the uncomfortable taste and drags his feet, following Tommy across his house to the kitchen. Tommy grins, clearly assuming Tubbo has decided to accept his help, and Tubbo feels like the only appropriate way this interaction can end is with him being swallowed by the wooden floorboards.

“Tubbo,” Tommy’s voice comes out low and dangerous, halfway to a growl.

He squeezes his eyes shut, doesn’t want to see the anger, doesn’t want another image of a disappointed Tommy in his mind to add to his collection.

“What have you been doing?” His voice is softer, and Tubbo only bites down harder, can’t bring himself to be bothered by the pain when his worst fear is coming true.

“This is,” He pauses, huffs a single laugh, “This is potion work, Tubbo. And I know exactly what you’re trying to make here, because I’ve seen the journal, too.”

Tubbo rolls the fabric of his sleeves into his fist and squeezes, nails biting into the flesh of his palms.

“Tubbo, you’re trying to recreate Schlatt’s sleeping potions,” Tommy says, bewildered, “Tubbo, they’re unstable… They could actually hurt you. They have hurt you before, that’s why you have all those memory problems!”

“You can't just-! Tubbo…” Tommy’s voice drops off.

Tubbo squeezes his eyes closed tighter, fights the bile burning at the back of his throat. And the dam breaks, and he crumples to the ground, heaving and sobbing uncontrollably. He’s so sick, his stomach twists and contorts and his tears taste like salt and the world is so empty and meaningless.

Then, he’s being gripped by the shoulders, strong and reliable, and he’s held against someone else, their body a line of heat so comforting he almost forgets how pain feels. Tommy, this is Tommy, his best friend.

“Tubbo, it’s going to be alright.” Tommy promises, voice calm and confident, “It will be fine, I promise, but first we need to talk to your doctor. I’ll call her, you just focus on your breathing.”

Tommy’s heart, vibrant and rattling, where his chest presses into Tubbo’s spine, projects each pulse into his ribcage. His breath hitches and rolls over in his tired lungs, and he opens his mouth, gulps air and winces at the raw pain in the back of his throat. His scarred over cheek stretches uncomfortably with each heave, and the image of a lightning shaped scar dances behind closed eyelids.

He lays there, propped up against Tommy, in a halfway sitting position, ignoring the growing static in the corners of his gaze. Tommy carefully rubs circles where his hand rests on Tubbo’s arm, and a gurgling of sounds reach his ears, but he can’t distinguish the syllables as separate entities. He lets the world blur, stops hanging on, lets himself rest.

Oh, is this the cost of rest?


	2. And Wait for Them to Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone hears the rumor in the wind; Wilbur Soot is back. Eret has a breakdown, Niki helps him through it.

“Wilbur Soot,” Quackity breathes in disbelief.

Wilbur Soot himself towers over Quackity but smiles with an endearing nervousness.

“Hello, Big Q,” He says, his voice sounds wrecked, makes him sound all sad and quiet, “I was wondering if you would show me to my brother?”

Quackity nods silently, “Yeah… is, uh… are _they_ coming with you?”

Wilbur casts a glance over his shoulder and smiles when he’s greeted by the sight of Technoblade and Fundy, “Yeah, they are. They won’t cause any trouble, promise.”

Quackity bites the inside of his cheek and weighs his options, there’s a chance that Wilbur Soot’s promises mean about as much as they did during the height of his insanity. 

But, looking back at the two men accompanying Wilbur, he just sighs, how much damage could they actually cause? Techno looks the most dressed down he’s ever appeared in his life, the only armour he wears is the standard for any traveler, really. And Fundy? Quackity just decides to make a personal call and trust Fundy.

“That’s fine, but we need an escort.” Quackity decides, and he calls over a few soldiers.

“So Tommy is most likely in the White House, and you may need to wait for a bit, it being election season and all,”

“Of course,” Wilbur says, and Quackity feels himself relax, this feels so similar to the old, perfectly sane Wilbur that he knew.

They make their way from the outer border into the heart of the capitol city in relative peace. Fundy starts up a conversation with one of the soldiers, complimenting the stripes painted onto her left gauntlet; blue, pink, white, pink, blue. And Quackity indulges in a quiet smile as he recognizes it as the trans flag.

The group stand at the foot of the White House and Wilbur notices a haunting lack of motion within the city.

“What happened?” He asks, but his stomach twists and he already knows the answer.

Quackity freezes, then, “It’s too dangerous to let anyone live there. We just keep finding live mines. It’s kind of ridiculous.”

Wilbur nods to himself and glances back at Techno who raises an eyebrow, _You’re here to make things right, aren’t you? Face it._ Wilbur can almost hear his brother’s words.

He steels himself, nods to himself again; this is the final step of his journey. And then, he’ll be free. He’ll set his brothers free, set the drowned man free. He’ll start over.

“Yes, well I know a thing or two about setting up around 11 stacks of dynamite, so I could probably help you with removing them.” Wilbur smiles wryly.

Quackity huffs a quiet laugh, making another personal decision to see this as _funny_ and not the most foreboding fucking thing anyone has ever said, ever, “Sure thing…” He mutters.

***

“So I’ve been thinking,” Wilbur says, grinning widely to his entire cabinet, “I am the president of L’Manberg, and having a president implies that we’re a democracy.”

A few of the cabinet members look at each other in vague discomfort, a woman speaks up, “We _are_ a democracy, sir.”

Wilbur nods wisely, “Sure, sure.”

“What are you suggesting?” Tubbo, Secretary of State, asks.

“Thank you Tubbo,” Wilbur grins again, “I’m suggesting that we run an election, but announce it and close the ballot on the same day.”

Quackity looks up from his notepad so suddenly, it nearly throws his beanie from his hair, “What? Are you kidding me?”

President Wilbur arches an eyebrow, “Is something wrong, Quackity?”

“Is something- Is something wrong?” Quackity sputters, “Yes! You- Your plan is a threat to our democracy, you can't just- Tommy, Mr. Vice President, you agree that this is crazy, don’t you?”

Tommy bites his lip, he has been quieter than usual. He thinks distantly of Wilbur losing sleep and weight in equal measure, the idea of losing power over the nation he helped found a terrifying one. Tommy understands this vaguely, if only because he too has the memory of his older brother being dragged away in place of his father. 

And he knows that every single person in his family is haunted by the notion that there will ever come another moment in life where they will feel that powerless again.

It’s too bad he’s haunted by this notion just as much as the rest of them.

Tommy opens his mouth, watches Quackity’s — _his friend’s_ — expression as it is twisted into desperation, and completely disregards anyone’s feelings but his own as he says, “I think it’s a fine idea.”

By the end of the day, Quackity has turned in a letter of resignation and his name is printed proudly on the ballot that will be used to spread the news to the masses.

Tubbo looks worried, a crease permanently furrowed into his forehead, and Wilbur looks upset, perhaps that his perfect plan didn’t execute as flawlessly as he had hoped. And Tommy, freshly 16, and distantly haunted by a past war and a king torn from his crown, does not exactly have the sense in him to feel fear at the turn of the air.

“I really hope this turns out for the better,” Tubbo says and gingerly hands him his token pufferfish the night before the election.

Tommy smiles, an uncomfortable moment of sincerity covered up by his quick jest, “Shall I eat it?”

Tubbo’s look of horror is hysterical and Tommy laughs, fully and loudly, with his entire body. A warmth spreads through him, his best friend smiles at him.

The thought does not even begin to cross his mind that perhaps this is the last time he’ll see Tubbo laugh and smile this freely, act this unabashed and undamaged.

The thought does not cross his mind to enjoy the clearness of Tubbo’s skin, past all the age typical acne scars and general redness, he doesn’t think about the way that Tubbo can smile and laugh and talk without an uncomfortable stretch to his scarred over skin.

The thought _does_ cross his mind to say thank you, and against his embarrassment at being so emotionally vulnerable he says, “Thank you Tubbo, it means a lot.”

The sun sets, the jukebox’s music fades out and Tommy and Tubbo enjoy the peace.

***

Fundy has spent most of his life being babied.

And really, he needed it, when he got abandoned in the Drowned World and it set him back into the mentality of a young child. But, that was a coping mechanism and it served him well while he used it, but now it's unhealthy for him to continue on using it.

Fundy's mother's name was Sally.

Her name was Sally and she was the best mom ever, which perhaps is only something he can say because he remembers so little of her.

Sally sang him songs when he couldn't sleep and made him soup when he felt sick and taught him how to hunt, how to swim, how to cook, how to build, how to make connected lines of redstone light up a light bulb.

He holds her close to his mind, remembers her as he fosters his passions.

Fundy spent a lot of time being babied and it is a testament to Wilbur's progress that he's near completely stopped.

“How you doing, champ?” Wil asks and sits next to him, opting to cross his legs rather than dangle them down over the open water. The night is quiet around them, but not silent. The ocean is too powerful to be contained to silence.

Fundy shrugs, “I’m alright I guess. I’ve been away for a long time. It’s kind of weird to just see everyone again.”

“Yeah.” Wil sighs, “I didn’t realize the bombs would cause so much fear- or, well. I don’t know.”

“I’m glad you didn’t set them off.” Fundy says, he traces his hands over the wood grain of the docks underneath him.

“Me too, Funds… Me too.”

Fundy smiles, a small, shy thing, and Wilbur barely catches it in the moonlight. Then, he’s back to looking gloomy, “I miss Niki’s bakery being located over here.”

“I miss Niki,” Wil admits.

“Yeah, me too. I haven’t seen her since I was overseeing Tubbo’s trial.”

“ _You_ did that?” Wilbur looks surprised and Fundy winces, then has to remind himself that his father is not trying to be unkind in any way.

“Yeah. Quackity was also facing trial so I stepped up, especially after Eret vouched for me.” The thought that he very much abandoned Tubbo in the middle of his trial to help Wilbur gets pushed to the side. There’s no time for that. Quackity was able, by the time he left, and Wilbur needed him more. Fundy blinks, a new thought has occurred to him, “I think Niki is actually living with Eret.”

“Huh,” Wilbur looks distinctly uncomfortable, Fundy frowns a bit.

“We should visit them. Both of them.”

Wilbur drops his head into his cupped hands, “Fuck. I do not want to do that.”

Fundy bites his cheek, “I think you need to. Let all that trauma and shit go, y’know.”

Wilbur is silent, shaking his head in disbelief from where it is cradled by his hands.

“It really helped me when I forgave Eret. But, I had more incentive. I basically worked with the man. And well… he’s probably the reason I only spent two nights in a prison cell.”

“Fundyyyy,” Wilbur whines, “How the fuck are you always so damn convincing,”

“I don’t know, probably learned it from my dad,” Fundy grins.

Wilbur huffs and tilts his head all the way back, eyes staring openly at the stars, “Yeah. I should probably at least thank Eret for helping you. I don’t know if I’m ready to forgive him.”

“I didn’t even know that I had _already_ forgiven him until I visited.” Fundy says, he grins smugly at his father, “Let’s turn in for the night. It seems we have a very important trip to take care of in the morning.”

***

Fundy burns down the flag and Niki makes herself sick with heartbreak. She stays with Eret and they're practically bending over backwards to accommodate her. She worries for them, of course, but she also knows how healing this is for them. To take care of a dear friend without being pushed away again and again.

And it’s healing for Niki too. To be so taken care of when she feels so lost and betrayed. To be put first. To be let in. She frowns as she thinks of Wilbur.

She has a bad feeling about his future, had a feeling ever since Quackity started a campaign _against_ him. A cabinet member running against their own president. She knew something was wrong, but she didn’t want to believe it. Didn’t want to think Wil, her Wil, the same Wil who walked with her too and from academy every single day, the Wil who took time to prepare entire picnics for the two of them, the Wil that skipped rocks with her at the lake shore- she just couldn’t believe that he would change so suddenly and for the worst.

And now what has she gained for seeing the best in him? She has gained an unfamiliar home, after being ousted and taxed to debt in Schlatt’s Manberg, she’s gained a— oh. She’s gained a true friend.

Eret. Eret who she’s chosen to see the best in. Eret who’s taken care of her, who has given her a welcome and loving home.

“Niki?” They ask from the doorway, hand limply resting on the doorknob.

“Yeah?” She asks.

“Sorry for barging in, you weren’t replying. I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

She sighs in relief, “Yeah, I’m good. A lot better now that you’re here.”

Eret gives her a timid smile, “Cool. You still up for hot cocoa on the roof?”

Niki’s eyes light up, “Absolutely,” She breathes.

She doesn’t really want to go back. Not anymore, not now that she has Eret. Not now that Eret has her. Maybe she could go back, someday, but only if Eret can come too.

It isn’t really a surprise when she starts planning out how to set up a new bakery in Eret’s kingdom.

***

Niki hears that Wil is back. Of course she does, it’s the kind of news that travels like wildfire; far too fast to contain and devouring every other idea in its presence. She takes a few days off, lets her employees run shop while she’s away.

She visits Eret, who is stressed out of his mind.

“What if he goes through with his original plan to blow everything up? We don’t know for sure the extent of the bombs, what if there’s even more even in the active districts? So many people could die, Niki…” He mumbles and Niki cradles him closer, leaning back into the sofa.

He lays against her chest, forehead tucked into the crook of her neck. She carefully holds him and rubs slow circles into his back.

“It won't be your fault, Eret. Even if that happens, he’s the one who’s pushing that button, not you.”

“Niki, I betrayed him, he’s doing this to spite me, to spite Tommy—“

“Even so, he has control over his own actions, he’s a grown man. And you cant do a single thing to change what you’ve done, the only thing you can do is focus on the present and the future.” Niki murmurs, breathing deeply, Eret copies her out of habit.

A knock on the wooden door dully echoes in the room.

“Come in,” Niki calls.

The door creaks on its hinges and Eret only hugs her tighter. Niki looks up and is greeted by a familiar woman, dark skin and sea green hair.

“Lady Agape,” Niki says, “What can we do for you?”

She feels bad about how short her tone comes out, she and Lady Agape are quite good friends, actually. Her lips turn into a small frown.

“I apologize, my king.” She says and closes the door, “I didn’t mean to disturb you when you were feeling unwell, however, we have quite the unexpected guests at the moment.”

Niki frowns and drops her chin to rest on Eret’s head. Dread crawls through her and she knows instinctively who exactly Lady Agape is talking about.

“Wilbur Soot, right?” She asks, already knowing the answer.

“Yes.” Lady Agape confirms, wringing her hands together, “As well as his son, Fundy and his brother Technoblade. My wife is currently overseeing them along with a soldier escort.”

“Thank you,” Niki says, because Eret has gone completely rigid where he clings to her.

Lady Agape nods her head, “Will the king be out shortly to deal with it or should I make arrangements myself?”

Eret stirs, “I will be down in a moment, thank you m’lady.”

She leaves, closing the door behind her and Niki tugs Eret into a full hug.

“Okay,” She says, bringing a deep calm into her voice, “We’re doing this.”

***

“So, what's _your_ favorite thing these days?” Niki’s friend asks; an ex-girlfriend she’s on particularly good terms with. Her head tilts and fingers fiddle with her cherry red straw. She lifts it to take a sip, finishing off the dregs below the ice.

“My favorite thing is Wil,” Niki declares, her friend giggles with delight. And Wil, seated next to her, flushes.

“Niki…” He whines, utterly flustered, “You can’t just say that,”

“I can if it’s true,” Niki insists, grinning. He hides his face in cupped hands.

“Niki,” He mutters. She grins and puts an arm on his shoulder, trying to send some comfort his way.

“We should get going.” She speaks up, and her friend nods, eyes twinkling.

“Sure, sure.” She says and hugs Niki farewell and waves to Wil.

“See you around,” Niki calls as she leaves the café.

They hit the bustling street, hand in hand. Wil fidgets with the collar of his jacket, Niki frowns a little, “Need to go back?”

“Yeah…” Wil admits, voice low and apologetic, “I had a great time with you, Niki. Walk with me to the White House?”

“Of course,”

They make their way through the streets, busy and crowded with people. Ever since L’Manberg won their independence, people from within and beyond the realm had flocked to the nation; a presidential democracy was still a novelty.

She watches as so many different people pass by, watches the vibrant colors around her, the many earthy tones of skin, the brightness of clothes, Niki feels a great pride blossoming in her chest for her home.

The air is filled with many different dialects, the uneven roll of wagon wheels, and the pure essence of what people are; so different and yet so essentially similar.

Wil passes her hand to the crook of his elbow as they climb the stairs to the White House and Niki automatically moves her feet to catch each step, focusing her gaze on Wilbur’s face.

It’s saddening as each step he climbs closer, he loses a little bit of joy on his face. Niki can’t do anything though, so she just holds on a little tighter.

“Wilbur Soot?” An unfamiliar man’s voice calls from the top of the stairs, and Niki turns to look at him. 

“Schlatt.” Wilbur greets and he almost sounds scared.

“Hey bud! Haven’t seen you for a while, have I?” He grins with a hint of malice, his suit stretches as he opens his arms into a sweeping gesture and he has horns that curl into three quarters of a circle and matching ram’s eyes and floppy ears.

“It’s good to see you again Schlatt, I assume you got my letter?” Wil asks, Niki studies his side profile and then studies Schlatt and his yellow eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. President huh?” His eyes wander and land on Niki, and she almost feels like bugs are crawling up her spine, something is wrong here, “She your little wifey or something? Always knew you could do it!”

“No, Schlatt,” Wil grumbles, “She’s just a friend,”

“Oh really?” He taunts and Wil’s jaw shuts with an audible clack.

“Drop it, Schlatt.” He warns.

“I’m going to go,” Niki tells Wil, pulling away from her place huddled by his side, her hands linger on his wool coat.

He nods absently, drags his gaze from Schlatt and gives her a lackluster smile. He brings his hand up and tucks a stray hair back behind her ear, “See you Niki. Thanks for today, it was great.”

“Of course, Wil. Bye,” She says and steps away. As she descends the stairs, she feels like she can breath again, her lungs push out to their full capacity in her chest and she tilts her head up, listening to the city.

Then, she’s overwhelmed by guilt. She feels strongly like she shouldn’t have left him with that man— with Schlatt.

She casts a glance over her shoulder and feels her heart sink as she realizes that the doorway is empty. He’s gone, and she’s alone.

But, she has plans with him the day after the big election and Inauguration Day, so she won’t be waiting long.

(She didn’t know, couldn’t have known, huh?)

***

“King Eret,” Wilbur’s voice comes out cracked and dead. Fundy stands beside him and Techno carefully oversees the interaction from a few steps behind his companions.

“Wilbur Soot,” Eret frowns, “What makes you think you are welcome in my castle, in my _lands?_ ”

Wilbur looks briefly shocked, as if he hadn’t stopped to consider exactly where he was and was not welcome; in truth, it had slipped his mind after he entered L’Manberg. He forgot that he was traveling to a completely different country, it was easier to see Eret as a past acquaintance rather than the king of a foreign land.

“Eret,” Fundy speaks up, but his voice is meek.

“King Eret,” He corrects and Fundy shrinks a little.

“Sorry, King Eret,” He tugs on his glove nervously and his tail sweeps anxious crescents across the floor.

“What do you three want?”

“We were hoping to speak to you, as well as see Niki.” Fundy says, his eyes flick to Niki where she stands proudly beside Eret.

“Why should I listen to you, Fundy?” Eret’s deep voice tainted by hurt, “Last I knew, you ran away as soon as you saw the opportunity, you left Tubbo behind and now, for all I know, you’re wanted for desertion in L’Manberg.”

Fundy winces, “Eret, I know I fucked up, but I— We checked in with Tommy and he can’t have anything official arranged for another week at least, and Big Q gave us the pass to go, so—“

“I don’t really care,” And Eret sounds exhausted, Niki looks at him with a hint of worry, she won’t let him reach his breaking point in front of a crowd, especially in front of Wilbur Soot.

“King Eret,” And its Technoblade, both Niki and Eret’s attention snap onto him.

“Technoblade,” Eret says back, as passively as he can.

“King Eret, I want to say something to you, King to King,” He growls, stepping out in front of his disaster family members, “My family is a flaming pile of garbage, but they’re _my_ dumpster fire, and if my brother wants to get better and heal some of his trauma by speaking to you, I’m gonna ask you politely to listen to him.”

Eret’s bleached eyes bore into him. Niki regards him with a frown. She’s not particularly fond of any of the trio in front of her.

“Say please,” Eret finally says.

“Please,” Techno immediately complies.

A beat of silence, the sun shines, bright and true directly in the middle of the sky.

“Come in. We will talk. You can stay the night and I’ll decide whether or not to send you back in the morning.” Eret finally says. 

Fundy lets out a deep sigh and Wil begins to look less tense on the surface.

He nods to Lady Agape, who has been a silent observer the entire time, “You and the Noble Loreto will lead the court session for today, M’Lady.” He addresses her wife, a unique and beautiful pink skinned tiefling, “And thank you, Lady Kalisto, for overseeing their arrival.”

The couple bow courteously, say their goodbyes and make their way inside. Niki misses it, locked in her intense staring at Wilbur. He notices, of course, being as paranoid as he has always been.

“What?” He snaps.

Niki frowns, “Nothing.” She snaps back. 

She looks at him and sees the man who traveled an hour every day to visit her during her recovery from surgery. 

But, her blood boils, because she also sees the man who planted bombs under a country that he built from the ground up with his own hands.

Fundy is immediately back on high alert, “Niki, if this is about your flag, I’m—,”

“Fundy,” Eret interrupts, voice a low warning, “Kindly shut the fuck up about the flag.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummmmmm okay so now we have a third chapter on the way... and also I have no clue how I managed to make this one so long, I just wanted it to like, be meaningful lol
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! I’d love to see any kind of feedback, kudos, comments, etc!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :) Any feedback is definitely appreciated! Leave a comment, let me know what you think!


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